Devil's Due
by LithiumDoll
Summary: A thief in Bayville, a mad scientist on the trail. Ya know that can't be good ... [Sequel to Devil To Pay]
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer** It's all Marvel's. No money made. Suing will profit no one.  
**Want?** Take ... Have ... just lemme know where it's going :)  


"Je voudrais une glace, sil vous plait." Kitty looked innocently at her French teacher, pausing for a moment before continuing in a rush of perfectly accented and structured French she had been practising in the last week since returning from New York. She just wished she knew the meaning to all the words Remy had told her. He'd looked far too sincere when he'd insisted the teacher would be both shocked and amazed by her grasp of the language. "En outre, je voudrais une bière, la caisse enregistreuse et un billet d'avion vers Brésil" 

Madame LaCroux's mouth opened, then closed, then opened once more. "Miss Pryde, I commend you on your improved accent. However, I would suggest that whomever has been helping you with your vocabulary might be told this class contains no beer. Nor is there a cash register and, because of a massive over sight on my part, we are severely lacking in airplane tickets to Brazil." 

The bell rang as the teacher smiled, speaking over the end of lesson roar and laughter as Kitty planned a certain Cajun's untimely demise. "Page 24 for homework! I hope to see more of Miss Pryde's initiative next class!" 

All right, maybe there could be a stay of execution. She grinned as she waited outside in the hallway for Rogue and Kurt to join her, bouncing lightly on her feet until she caught sight of Serendipity Baker and her clique at the end of the hall. It was infuriating the way her mind despised everything they were, but still managed to make her look dopey and fawn when the seniors went by. Keeping her wistful gazing at their designer _everything_ to a minimum, she stared past them affecting the cool indifference she had been practising. 

"Kitty? Yuh okay there sugah? Goin kinda cross-eyed ..." 

Rogue was standing looking at her with a bemused frown. So, cool indifference attempt number thirteen wasn't the success Kitty had been hoping for. Who cared, in a week it was winter break. The bounce returned with her grin. 

"I'm fine. I was, like, practising my balance. I heard guys on mountains do it for their chi ..." 

"Uh huh." 

Rogue tuned out Kitty's enthused tones for a moment as the other girl warmed to her subject. She let her gaze move furtively through the after bell crush in the hall. Scott and Jean she spotted walking slowly, talking about something complicated if the emphatic hand waving was anything to go by; saw Evan talking animatedly to a boy she vaguely recognised as one of the long hair skateboard set ... but no Remy. Well, that was great, maybe she'd have a lunch period in peace for once without having to listen to his irritating self trying to make her think he was Prince Charming of Swampland. She gave another look around, beginning to scowl and rapidly running out of excuses to linger outside the French class door. 

He'd taken to meeting her every day before lunch, walking her to the hall despite the cold shoulder she gave, or the acid words they sometimes exchanged. And now, just as she'd thought of the perfect way to make him go away, she'd been stood up! 

"That no good, red eyed, bug-eatin, swamp-rat lookin' ..." 

Rogue trailed off as Kitty and Kurt just looked at her, clearly amused. It wasn't like they could have missed her "date" for the last week either. Gathering the last shreds of her temper around the remnants of injured pride, she headed towards the lunch hall. 

  
The flow of visitors for Ms Darkholme had kept her busy in her secretarial capacity since first bell, and Abigail was about ready to collapse by the time the lunch bell went. If she was quick, she could make it out the door while the Principle was still seeing the last of her "guests", as she called them. 

Abigail failed to be fooled. They weren't guests, they were badly disguised muscle-monkeys in cheap suits who were almost to a man called 'Buzz'. Well, one had been called Terry, but he didn't count, he was actually a student. Poor kid had looked white as a sheet when she'd asked him to wait with the wildlife for his time slot. And there had been the one called Greycrow, him she had no problem remembering. He'd been cute, quiet, polite ... importantly not looking like the forgotten poster-child for steroid abuse. She hoped he got the job, whatever it was. 

She slipped out into the now mostly quiet halls, tugging on her coat awkwardly as she attempted to juggle her purse and the dynamics of not falling over in high-heeled pumps. The sleeve eluded her flailing arms for several attempt before she at last caught it, only after a second realising someone was adeptly lending a hand, as well as neatly avoiding the purse she was starting to swing in her annoyance. 

Unsure of whether to be embarrassed by the picture of futility she knew she must have made or laugh, Abigail looked up at her dashing rescuer and felt the beginnings of her smile die away. It was one of the Xavier Mansion students, the newest transfer. He smelt of smoke from cigarettes he was banned from having on high school grounds and was wearing the ever-present shades and a quirk of a smirk that was almost as embedded. 

"Bonjour Mademoiselle Kirk. Want me t' hold it down while y' punch it fo' a while?" 

"Uh, no. I think it'd learned it's lesson. Thanks." 

A shrug and a slight widening of his smile and he was walking away. She let out a long breath and picked up her pace towards the doors. The lunch hour wasn't long, and she had a lot of important people to see. 

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**Notes**  
Hrm .. from what I can tell, this series splits from the Evo continuity shortly after Rogue joined the X-Men types, and seeing as I've hardly seen any of the shows ::kicks UK TV:: it probably won't get back on track. Sorry ;) If you haven't read Devil To Pay, might be a plan to, although this can theoretically stand on it's own. Theoretically. This is just the prologue so kinda short, chapters will be longer. Whew .. think that's it. 

1) Je voudrais une glace, sil vous plait = I would like an ice cream, please.  
2) En outre, je voudrais une bière, la caisse enregistreuse et un billet d'avion vers Brésil. = "Also, I would like a beer, the cash register and a plane ticket to Brazil." 


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer** It's all Marvel's. No money made. Suing will profit no one.  
**Want?** Take ... Have ... just lemme know where it's going :)  


Dinner was quiet for once, something for which Logan was willing to thank most anybody willing to take credit, although it was almost unnerving the way that the half-pint and the elf were just diligently eating and not surreptitiously throwing peas at each other. Something was definitely up there, but he tried not to stare. Whatever they were plotting would be found out sooner or later, and it was at least entertaining to watch them try and talk their way out of whatever they had done. 

Rogue, sat next to him, never had been the most talkative of them, and now it was unusual for her to say even a word. Except when the Cajun was actually back for dinner, then they'd trade banter and insults back and forth until they were, usually by him, politely asked to shut their yaps. Now she was just looking at the empty chair across the table as if it might suddenly sprout a fully-grown thief, complete with trench coat. It would be kinda sweet to watch, if there wasn't the sense of nausea he automatically felt whenever subjected to teenage angst. 

At the other end of the table, Chuck and 'Ro were talking quietly about something that sounded about as dull as a politician's dish water, and Evan was trying to perform some pretty bad sleight of hand as he tried to hide his carrots under a knife. Scott and Jean had stayed late at school to help out with some activity or other, meaning he got to have a meal without being subjected to watching them both look at each other, trying to look at if they weren't. There was that nausea again. 

"Evan, you are fooling no one, eat the carrots, they are good for you." 

Ororo was good, Logan had to admit with a grin quickly hidden behind his hand. Her tone was an even statement that expected to be obeyed; she hadn't even looked across from her conversation. The volume of her voice had just risen to an appropriate level, then her private chat had continued like she'd never spoken. Evan's scowl was about good enough to make a gargoyle proud. He had a sneaking sympathy for the kid, the only one with a relative there to keep tabs on him. Had to be a pain in the backside. 

He tilted his head a touch as his ever-acute hearing told him the front door had just been quietly opened and as quietly shut. A casual glance around the table showed none of the others had noticed. That meant it could only be one person, else Chuck'd be looking a hell of a lot more alert. Probably saying things like 'To me, my X-Men' too. 

Wolverine took an expansive sniff of the air, hidden behind a yawn that earned him an arched eyebrow from 'Ro and curiosity from the others. 

"What? It's been a long day." His half growl had the desired effect, after a moment they went back to their preoccupations and ignored him. 

Nicotine, of course - that ashtray smell was the base that held the rest of the scents he identified as being Gambit, the almost spicy scent of after-shave, the mustiness of the trench coat and threaded in there an almost sharp, acrid, scent he hadn't identified yet. Just like the scent of everyone else at the mansion, it was entirely unique, making finding him in a crowd about the easiest thing there was. And he really did like to keep an eye on him in a crowd. 

The Professor might be ready to let a sleeping past lie with surprising speed, but he wasn't, not yet. There was no coppery tang of blood mixed with the scent and he relaxed. Xavier had never said why he allowed Remy the freedom to come and go that none of the other students received, but Logan could make a few educated guesses, Chuck wasn't even close to being stupid enough to let a resource go unused. 

Still, if it wasn't injury, there must be another reason he heard the steps heading very definitely towards the stairs. And then he caught just the slightest hint of something sweet, heavy and bringing the scent of bruised roses with it. Perfume huh? 

Hiding the scowl he could feel beginning to tighten his forehead, he stood and ambled out, picking up his jacket from where he had dropped it over the figurehead bust of some Greek looking woman and settling the hat that had been on top on his head. From the inside pocket he dug his cigars, and his Zippo. 

No one looked twice; this was his evening ritual, nothing unusual about it. He would eat and then enjoy a peaceful smoke away from the house. It had been his custom since he'd first arrived and no amount of anti-smoking leaflets, however imaginatively placed, was going to change that. Although, the small pile that had fallen out of the package he'd had delivered from Madripoor had been a surprise; still hadn't figured out how they'd managed that. Out of respect, that had been the only night he'd waited until they were all in bed to have his cigar. Of course, he'd also made it clear in his mildest tone of voice that, if it ever happened again, he'd do something their grand children would regret. 

He hadn't had a clue what, but they'd believed him just fine. It was possible that popping the claws had been overkill, but disclaimers should always be clear. Since then they'd gone back to taping the dangers of second hand smoke on his ceiling. Maybe that was what Kitty and Kurt were plotting, that wouldn't be so bad. 

Outside the dining room, he put the cigar away and altered his course towards the stairs. His steps were a predator's; silent, sure, and he knew sending no reverberations through the floor. No one without his senses, or some other method to cheat, could hope know he was coming. 

Gambit spun at the top of the stairs, fingers dropping an inch towards his pocket and the playing cards kept there, then recognising who it was and relaxing with a smirk. Wolverine noted with clinical interest that the thief's stance was still defensive, no matter how nonchalant he was attempting to appear. There was an impatient air about him, and it was clear he didn't know why he had been followed up. So, whatever it was that let him know people were coming, it didn't seem to let him know who that was or what they wanted. Interesting. Definitely not a spook then, he crossed that off the list of possibilities in his mind. 

"Goin' t' have t' get y' a bell dere mon ami." 

Logan shook his head and began to climb the stairs towards the increasingly wary looking Acadian. 

"Nope, that'd take all the fun outta watchin' you jump Gumbo." 

"Ah, y' an unpleasen' man m'sieur, anyone eve' tell y' dat?" 

"One or two." 

He could feel the beginnings of an amused smile and clamped down hard on it. Damn kid always did that, somehow made him calm down, made his suspicions lay for a while. Made him forget what the hell he was talking about it in the first place, most times. But not this time. Companionably, he draped an arm across the slightly taller young man's shoulders and began to force walk him away from the top of the stairs and along the top hall. There was a moment of resistance, and then his temporary abductee shook his head slightly as he was frog-marched away. 

"If dis about dat box from Madripoor, I swearin' I didn' know what dey want th' picks fo'..." 

"Not about the box" Logan grunted - as if he'd bare a grudge over something so petty. Well, only if it would be fun, and bearing a grudge against kids really wasn't fun. 

"Right, what box? Knew not'in, wasn' dere. Uh ... " 

Remy mentally ran through all the things he could think of that he could have done to earn the attention of a clearly annoyed Wolverine. Nothing serious came immediately to mind, nothing that deserved more than a dirty look anyway. Sure, he had been the silent partner in the anti-smoking campaign, but only because it took the heat from Kurt and Kitty's zeal off him. Otherwise, he'd spent a long, hard and incredibly boring week being the model of a good student. Mostly. If a couple of nights spent down at Harry's Bar were discounted, and that time he tripped and accidentally fell into the local town bank after dark. It wasn't like he'd taken anything ... and then there was that job Xavier had been laughingly hesitant to give him, still unsure of the abilities of his shiny new tool. 

He would have chuckled at the memory of Xavier's expression of worried near distaste, but expected that could be a life threatening move given the suspiciously homicidal looking disposition of the man currently hauling him off to the outer reaches of the building. On only his second day as an honest citizen, the Professeur had called him into the office and shown the picture of a young woman he wanted followed. The woman he'd even vaguely recognised. Cute, but not beautiful the same way Belle had been, or Rogue. A smattering of freckles and laughing eyes, the picture looked about a year or two old. It was Mademoiselle Kirk, the high school administrator he'd met just the day before when he'd enrolled. Following her had been easy enough, although stalking wasn't really his speciality. 

He'd tailed her at the lunch period as asked, phoned over the address of where she'd gone when he'd eventually followed her right back to Bayville again, and then skipped a lesson to spend a lunch period teasing Rogue. Good day by anyone's standards. 

Then Xavier had gotten more confident and asked him to follow her into the building. What had looked like a normal city apartment block from the outside had actually turned out to be a gutted warehouse with surprisingly good security on the inside. That hadn't been a problem, the skylight's lock had been retrograde enough to make it his version of a revolving door, but he hadn't been able to get close enough to see exactly whom she was talking to, or what they were saying. 

Today he'd installed a miniature recorder that should have picked the meeting up fine, and then gone back after school had got out to fetch it. Everything had been smooth as molasses, and he'd only been doing as he was told. Doing excellently as he was told, in fact, but it was sure enough that his little outings could be discounted. It had been suspiciously like working for truth and justice, which had taken all the fun out of it. If he knew of Remy's activities at all, Logan had a dour enough ethic to appreciate that. 

So, Logan had either got him figured for something he hadn't actually done, which, well, he'd never been a big fan of irony but it had a definite fixation on him ... or it was something else. 

He was abruptly released and took a moment to look around where they'd actually ended up. This was a part of the massive mansion he hadn't been to before, except for the pre-requisite tour he'd given himself when he'd first moved in. A storage area, he dimly recalled. One of several that held the dustsheet-covered furniture too old or too expensive to be put at risk with general use by high-schoolers. 

You could probably hide a body here for ... years. And Logan was just looking at him, standing in the doorway and effectively barring escape unless he felt like taking a dive out of the fourth story window. Well, he'd just bear that in mind. 

"Y' have m' undivided attention mon frere, what Remy done now?" 

"What are your intentions towards the girl?" 

Blunt question, blunt enough Gambit blinked behind his shades. There wasn't much point in asking which girl, so he just shrugged and leaned his shoulder casually against the wall. 

"Y' her pere now? Protectin' her honour?" 

"As far as you're concerned Gumbo, I'm her goddam shotgun waving army of relatives from the hills. Got me? You play with that girl and break her, and I'll make sure you don't ever play again." 

Behind the tinted glasses, Logan could see the sudden red anger literally begin to blaze from the younger man's eyes. He stood straighter, not backing down even a little bit as the crimson continued to spill into the shadows of the room and give it a flickering light. A stare down match with someone he couldn't actually see the eyes of wasn't easy, but he fixed his glare where he imagined them to be and held it. 

Second passed and slowly the glow began to die away as Gambit reigned back on his anger. At the back of his mind, Logan took not that it looked like that the eyes effect wasn't under control at all, just helpful to intimidate people not smart enough to know better than to get a guy who could kinetically charge their shorts angry. Like him. He racked that little bit of information along with the rest he'd managed to figure out about their other resident enigma. At least his excuse was amnesia, the Cajun, he suspected, was just being cagey. When he figured the kid had calmed enough to listen to anything he had to say, he went on. 

"You stink of perfume LeBeau, and it ain't hers. She's been waiting all night for you to come home, and you've been letting her think you care if she does wait for you. If you don't, you tell her right now." 

Through near gritted teeth, Remy at last replied, middle finger of his half gloved hand coming up to flip Logan off, co-incidentally, as he used it to lower his shades and allow his eyes to be seen. The red glow was still pronounced, and Wolverine already knew the thief to be an accomplished liar, but there definitely seemed to be a deeply resentful sincerity in their embers. 

"The perfume jus' from a girl who decide she like Remy a lil mo' dan he like her, comprennez-vous? I not playin' none at all wit' Roguey. Not even a lil bit." 

Logan finally looked away as the other man resettled his shades firmly over the devil's eyes. 

"Okay kid, I believe you." He wasn't going to say sorry, that would be insulting to both of them. Instead he waited until Gambit began to brush past him out the door to speak again. 

"But I still think you're gonna give her a world of hurt." 

The tight smile in response was as bitter as he had expected it to be. Some people just shouldn't chase packs, they should stay ronin and live with it. Drop by sometimes, sure, but don't get attached, don't let them love you, and don't love them back. He knew that and it looked like the Cajun knew it too, even if that wasn't going to stop him. 

Remy disappeared into his room, shutting the door and dropping the coat on the bed as he passed it on his way to the shower. It took half an hour, but he finally managed to remove all traces of Abigail's errant perfume from him. Anytime now, he figured, he'd be able to shake Logan's words too. 

He made it down to the dining room in time for desert, taking his seat with a grin to those who called a greeting and a very slight nod to the Professor to let him know the job was done. 

Then, he turned his attention to Rogue with a smile that she returned gently for just a moment. Then it hardened and round eight began. 

"Y' didn' make dis, right? 'Cause my life insurance not cove' act of Mississipi Mud Rat." 

"This from the guy ah caught flavourin' his ice cream with Cayenne pepper" 

"Y' wound me ma chere, such terrible slander from such a pretty face…" 

Outside on the porch, listening to the murmur of conversation and occasional laughter, Logan shook his head and smoked his last cigar. 

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**Notes**  
Sorry for the time lapse, I got hijacked by a Mutant X fic, and the ransom has only just been paid. ::coughs:: What? Stop looking at me like that! Mutant X isn't that bad!! ::hangs head:: All right, it really really is. But in a good way! Anyway, this is a slow start, but I promise actual plot real soon... 


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer** It's all Marvel's. No money made. Suing will profit no one.  
**Want?** Take ... Have ... just lemme know where it's going :)  


"Lance?" 

"Yeah?" 

"What the _hell_ are you doing?" 

Todd had been standing quietly in the doorway of the classroom for some time, unnoticed by its industriously busy sole occupant, and watching Lance's activities. Wood shavings were flying, he was fairly sure that a plane was never meant to be abused like that, and curiosity had finally gotten the better of him. Lance looked up, shrugged, and returning to trying to level off the 2 by 4 as he replied. 

"La Cucaracha, what does it look like I'm doing?" 

"It _looks_ like you're torturing a small bit of wood. I know you hate Wood Shop, didn't know you hated it _that_ much ..." 

Finally Lance stepped back and surveyed his work with a critical eye, holding one thumb out to his project like an artist getting the proportions of a masterpiece. 

"It's Christmas soon." 

"And you're making a Santa trap?" Todd smirked as he wandered over to the workbench for a closer look at the project. "Maybe it's time we had that talk about him and the Easter Bunny..." 

A casual step to the side let him easily avoid the screwdriver thrown carelessly at his head, and unconcerned he peered around Lance's shoulder at the ... thing. He couldn't quite decide if is was meant to be a spice rack, or maybe a magazine holder. Either way, there were far too many nails sticking out, it'd make a wicked good iron maiden for a Barbie. 

"Ok, I give, who are you gonna put in therapy by giving them that as a Christmas present? Cause I _have_ to be there with a camera." 

Lance glared back over his shoulder, then returned to his careful whittling. "Can't you go annoy someone else for a while?" 

"Nope. Pietro and Fred went into town, and I'm bored. Give me five bucks and I'll leave ya alone." 

As the ground began to shudder under his feet, he bounded towards the door. "Okay! Geez, I'm gone already." Muttering, he slouched down the corridor; there were some after school clubs on today, he just had to find them, then he could annoy them without fear of the earth opening under him and swallowing him whole. Yeah, definitely better than hanging with Lance. Who needed him and his stupid ... stupid … 

"Kitty." 

The smile on his face as he finally realised who Lance must have been making the present for couldn't quite decide whether to be amused or sly, and settled on a kind of puckish evil that his little snicker did nothing to help. He rubbed his hands together in his very best imitation of Mr Burns. Definitely had to go find that camera. 

Raised voices intruded on his happy moment, it sounded like Jean and Scott were arguing their way towards him, they would probably turn into his corridor any moment. And stop talking. Which would be a shame, as what little he'd heard sounded fascinating. With a quick look around he jumped silently onto the rows of lockers beside him, scooting to the back by the wall and then lying flat. With any luck they wouldn't look up. 

"… all I said was he seemed to be settling in well Scott! Why are you making this into a big deal?" 

"I'm _not_ making anything into a big deal. I'm just saying everyone seems in such a rush to trust him and I don't think …" 

There was silence as Scott trailed away into an exasperated sigh. He really hadn't meant to discuss his worry with Jean at all, but she'd seemed so blasé about accepting a not only self-confessed criminal, but a self-confessed criminal without an ounce of repentance in him at all. It felt like he was the only one with any reservations at all, maybe he was just being paranoid, and he would have been willing to admit that if she hadn't decided to make it into a big argument. 

That had been half an hour ago, since then they had stubbornly been sticking to their guns and arguing in circles. 

"I don't think you're thinking at all. You're jealous!" Jean stood, one hand on her hip and the other with a finger extended almost poking Scott in the chest as she replied, equally as frustrated as her current opposition. 

"Jealous?! What have I got to be jealous about? Don't be ridiculous. I just don't want anyone to get hurt by him, that's all." 

She nodded. "I believe that, but I still think you're jealous of all the attention he's getting from Rogue." 

"_Rogue?_" He was starting to feel like a parrot, just repeating back what she had said. But this was getting further and further away from the original point, and so wrong he couldn't quite keep the incredulous amusement out of his tone. 

"Sure, 'cause I really miss those cupcakes Rogue used to bake me every day … oh, wait. So, not only am I suffering from paranoid delusions, I'm also jealous about the fact he's getting the attentions of a girl I'm just friends with … and don't recall getting a whole lot of attention from anyway." 

Jean scanned Scott's sardonic expression and found nothing in it at all to suggest he was lying. It stopped her in her tracks, mouth open with a reply that was suddenly not really applicable. She shut her mouth before she caught one of the flies buzzing around in it, then spoke in a more level tone. 

"You really didn't notice Rogue was trying to get your attention? That, probably, the biggest reason she left the Brotherhood was you?" 

Scott shook his head with a bemused frown, still semi-amused and wondering at the turn this had taken. At least they didn't seem to be arguing anymore, that could only be good. He hated arguments; they went directly against the logic he usually worked with and into the realm of random accusation and messy anger. Never good and invariably headache inducing, if this one was over he'd be happy to try and keep it that way. 

She gave a small smile and finally dropped her accusing finger with a shake of her head. "You're pretty hopeless, you know that?" 

"'Long as I'm pretty..." 

Jean began to laugh, then stopped as the smell and the flies finally registered. A quick mental glance around the vicinity revealed a slimy little mind trying to pretend it was wallpaper. 

"Toad!" 

"Aaaagh!" 

Todd gave a yell as he was startled by the sudden sharpness of her voice as he was rumbled, promptly rolling off the lockers but landing on his feet easily in a crouch to look up at the two faces glaring down at him. Seemed to be his day for being glared at. He gave his smarmiest grin and stood, shoulders hunched a little in defence. 

"Locker inspection. Everything's fine, I'll just be checking the other corridor." 

"You're checking the _top_ of the lockers?" 

Scott's tone and expression suggested he hadn't entirely believed his cunning excuse. Time for Plan B. 

"Hey! Look! It's Galactus!" 

Toad didn't wait for them to turn around, he took off jumping with a gleeful grin deciding to stay and do after school activities more often. 

  
From his office Xavier could hear the front door open and shut, the chatter from Jean announcing the last two students were home for the weekend. For a moment he just listened, not making out the words but the tone was light and happy, excited even. It warmed a little of the chill that had settled over him as the tape recorder under his hand had played. But even the thought of it bought the cold back and the voices from the lobby were soon gone. 

Outside the snow had made it a dark night, no stars shone through and the moon was a hidden sliver. Under his fingers the buttons of the machine felt hard, unnatural in comparison to the warm wood of his desk and the clean nature outside. 

Thinning his lips, he pressed play once more. It wasn't to ensure he had committed the warehouse conversation to memory - that he had done in an instant. It was to be sure that the expression in the words stayed with him, was there to remind him if ever he forgot how fragile his dream of mutants and humans in co-existence was. 

The quality was scratchy, but clear. A man with a resonantly well-spoken voice was the chief speaker, welcoming other parties as they arrived one by one. 

~ Ah, Judge, how wonderful you could make it. Yes, out guest should be here shortly herself. I'm sure she will have news for us. Ms Fletcher, so glad you could make it, I realise how busy your schedule with the Senator is right now … ~ 

It went on, the glad-handing and the list of dignitaries. Not so many in place of power, as in positions of influence with those that were. Refined and educated, important and well travelled. And all they were missing were the pointed white hoods and the chance to burn a DNA strand in someone's garden. 

~ Abigail! Do come over here my dear … have you met Dr Grant? No? You must get acquainted, perhaps after you tell us your news? ~ 

The woman's voice was a quaver to begin with, but warmed to its subject quickly. He tried to listen dispassionately, to understand her fear, to reconcile the fact she was doing what she felt to be the right thing. And somehow still couldn't quite unclench his fist as her words went on. 

~ Well, um, hello. I d-don't really have much news. But, um, I am fairly certain that there are Muties in the school. I think I can get the names quite soon, but I – I want to be sure, you understand? ~ 

The smooth voice came again over the general mutters and murmurs of outraged well-to-do citizens that there might be Mutants in the High School, calming and coaxing. Whoever it was, they were certainly adept at manipulating the ignorant. 

~ Of course we understand my dear, we wouldn't dream of moving until quite sure. This isn't a witch-hunt, after all. ~ 

No, no it wasn't a witch-hunt. Xavier smiled tightly as he stopped the tape. To call it a witch-hunt would be to dignify stupidity. 

The grandfather clock chimed a soft nine, striking the eighth tone before he really heard it. For a moment his finger rested on the plastic slickness of the 'delete' button, and he was tempted. But sense won through, at the very least and if all else failed, it was useful as blackmail toward the people on the tape, at least one of whom had built a profitable reputation as a freethinker and liberal. 

After locking the tape away in his bedroom safe, complete with its new and improved security, he headed towards the Rec-Room. Music was blaring loudly, he dimly recognised it as the most likely Christmas number one that even Ororo had finally succumbed to absently humming. Almost of their own volition, his fingers began to tap in time on the side of his chair, taking an effort of will to still. He had a certain image to maintain, after all. 

As he passed, considering stopping in, he saw they were dancing. Scott and Jean a touch awkwardly, Kurt and Kitty with an exuberance that should probably have carried a government health warning, and Remy and Rogue with a mix of both styles. All were laughing, even Evan for once not complaining about the music choice and just filming them on the camera borrowed from school again. 

The talk they must have could wait until tomorrow, he wheeled himself on. 

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**Notes**  
I think there's this secret conspiracy to stop me writing chapters. I'm not sure whether to blame the government or aliens or both. It could be karma. Either way, sorry for such a long gap. Again. This story _will_ be finished, I just can't say when chapters will appear. 

1) Galactus - Most people will know this guy, but for the ones that don't, he was a massive being with the habit of snacking on planets and had a very depressed guy with the power cosmic scouting them out for him on a silver surfboard ... you know, when it's put like that, it seems a little silly :P 


	4. Chapter 3

**Disclaimer** It's all Marvel's. No money made. Suing will profit no one.  
**Want?** Take ... Have ... just lemme know where it's going :)  


So, this was where they lived. Quite remarkable, really, that they had remained undetected for so long. The man standing before the gates of the Mansion, just out of range of the neatly concealed cameras, studied what he could see of the grounds thoughtfully. It was probably no little testament to the telepathic suggestion that Xavier was so capable of. The idea of a group of mutant children being able to stay discreet was, frankly, preposterous. But it suited his purpose quite magnificently. One surgical intrusion would net the ones he wished to study, and who was to miss what they didn't know was there? 

After a few more moments the man returned to the open back door of the limousine and slipped into the shadowed interior as he spoke. 

"Home, Scrambler" 

The black car rolled away. 

  
"You're kidding." 

"Mais, non. Scott said we could borrow his car t' go t' th' Mall b'fore he went wit' Jean, Stormy n' Logan t' see Le Professeur. Would Remy lie?" 

Kitty put a finger to her lips as if actually considering this as some kind of valid question. She pondered the sheen of utmost innocence that had settled across the red on black eyes that were meeting hers. 

"In a heartbeat, and probably, like, just for practise. But it's okay, I can say I was totally fooled when Scott starts yelling and the Professor does that thing with his eyebrows. I'll go get the others." 

Remy watched her phase through the corridor carpeting and heard the soft thump as she landed outside the Rec Room below and shivered slightly. He could supercharge anything to make it explosively unstable. He was in a house where he had to pick blue hair out of the shower, duck flying projectiles of bone on Football Sundays, his Rogue couldn't be touched; and he was freaked out by Kitty just making herself less dense than whatever she happened to be standing on. 

Shaking his head at his own quirk, he headed to his room to retrieve his duster, then Scott's room for the keys. As it happened, he had permission to drive the younger kids to the Mall for The Great Christmas Shop in the red convertible. Scott had been willing to negotiate anything including his soul to get out of doing the babysitting on the day out, Gambit had just taken use of the car for a week and a small favour to call in later. Never knew when you would need a favour. 

The keys were taped to the door, he peeled them off and whistled quietly between his teeth as he jogged back towards the stairs and the small cacophony of voices growing in the hall. 

A quick head count before the door showed everyone but Evan and those with the Professor had decided to wreak their own particular brand of chaos and disorder on the innocent and unsuspecting stores. He had no illusions at all he'd be able to keep them under control, but damage limitation wouldn't be including apologies for mysterious holes in walls. Again. 

"Kay mes petits enfants, we try t' keep collateral damage t' th' minimum dis time, oui?" 

Rogue's eyes widened, then narrowed as she opened the front door to be first down the steps. She muttered under breath. 

"Little children, huh? We'll see about _that_" 

One gloved hand reached over to bring Kitty closer to her, Kurt and Remy watched with a measure of worry as the two girls ahead whispered and finally giggled as they crunched through the snow on the way to the car. 

"Dis can't be good." 

"Nein. I think it is time to buy that ticket to Brazil after all, yes?" 

  
Jean had never been a habitual nail biter, but the sick worry forming in her gut made it suddenly understandable. She clenched her hands into fists to avoid giving into the sudden temptation to begin as Scott's lips tightened over whatever response he had been thinking of giving in the silence following the Professor's declaration. Instead Ororo's measured tones stepped in, slightly slow, thoughtful and precise. 

"But do you not feel that interference with this group of ... people ... will only endanger the school further? They will be watching us. Was it even safe to allow the shopping trip?" 

"It is precisely because they are watching us that activities must be seen as normal." Xavier shook his head, allowing a frown to show his own difficulty with the decision. "They are not going far. And we must take some measure. If we do nothing, it will be entirely their own game, their timing; something which I think none of us wants." 

Logan's growl was more in keeping with the Wolverine for which he was named, almost vicious, biting. "So what are we meant to do, exactly? Start wearing Mutant Pride badges and hope?" 

"No. I will talk to Abigail first. If we can enlighten her, reason with her, we may at least be able to stop the focus being on the Institute." 

"This ... " Jean stopped at all eyes turned to her, then unclenched her hands and smoothed her fingers over her jeans. "... isn't really going to go away, is it? I mean, even if Abigail does listen, the people she was with won't. And even if they _did_ there'll always be somebody else. Are we going to hide forever?" 

Xavier shook his head once more, this time smiling. "No Jean. Not forever. We will reach them all, even if we have to argue the dream one person at a time." 

Scott stood at last and spoke stiffly, but politely. "If that was everything you had to tell us, I'll let the others know the score when they get back." He turned towards the door and, after a non-verbal eye to eye conversation between the adults of the school, he wasn't stopped as he left. 

Silence fell again, Jean waited a few more seconds before she too made her way out. 

"We promised them they would never be kept in the dark again." Ororo sounded almost regretful once the door was once more closed, wanting justification for putting such a burden as the possible future on children. 

"Don't make it right." 

"Logan, we discussed this." Xavier's voice cut across almost sharply. 

"I'm not saying they shouldn't get told Chuck, I'm just saying it ain't fair. Not for anyone. Why won't you let me just introduce those F.O.H. morons to what can happen if they don't stop lookin'?" 

And then Wolverine too was gone, leaving only two to watch the increasingly thickening snow fall, quietly sharing Logan's frustration. 

Finally Xavier turned to look up at Ororo, speaking in a milder tone of voice. 

"I think perhaps there is such a thing as taking the ideal of a white Christmas a touch too far." 

She smiled at the gentle reminder and harnessed her emotions; allowing the snow to turn away from the threatening arctic nature it had taken and return to the kinder, seasonal, drift. 

  
"This one! This one is totally you." Kitty held out the dress to Rogue, who looked at it appraisingly for all of half a second before turning to rifle through the black selection. 

"It's pink and ... were those _butterflies_?? Ah want tuh shut his mouth, not his eyes." 

Kitty sighed and returned to looking through the clothing rails. They had managed to gather their gifts in record time, but since then had left five stores empty handed and they had to be at the food court to meet the other two in half an hour. At this rate Rogue would just have to shock Remy, and pretty much everyone else, by wearing her birthday suit. And then she saw it. With a crow of triumph, Kitty hauled her prize out, spinning to show the other girl. 

"This one!" 

"Ah don't ..." Rogue did a double take on the dress. It wasn't trashy, but it didn't belong in a convent either. Stylish and, she reached forward to check the sale tag, affordable. Perfect. "It's mine." 

Out of the corner of her eye she saw two familiar figures stroll past on the walk outside, and ducked down, dragging her shopping buddy with her, the other giving a slightly startled squawk before hissing urgently. 

"Trouble?" 

"Remy and Kurt, they can't see us in here! They can't have a clue!" 

Trying to ignore the strange looks from the assistants, Kitty sighed and stayed down, idly watching the shoes of those going by while Rogue peeked out to see whether the guys had moved on. One gaggle of shoes stopped before her, looking both familiar and _designer_. With a resigned dread and a bright smile, she looked up to see Serendipity Baker and minions smirking down. 

"Uhm, hi!" 

"_What_ are you doing down there? Looking for a rock to crawl under?" 

The clique giggled, Kitty felt her face flush, Rogue looked up and shrugged as she stood, replying with quiet distain. 

"Yeah, couldn't find none that didn't have your name on though." 

Serendipity's smirk became a scowl, and then a smile that held no ounce of friendly intent in it at all. But she ignored Rogue, speaking with a honey thick tone to Kitty instead. 

"You know, if you ever want to have any friends at all, you really should stop being seen with that kind of person." 

And then the seniors moved on, leaving the store with the air of ones who wouldn't deign to be seen in it. Kitty tried not to blush with a cross between anger and humiliation as she followed Rogue to pay. 

"How can you take that, aren't you mad?" 

"Should ah be? They ain't my friends, ah don't want them tuh be. So what they think doesn't matter." 

"But what Remy thinks about the dress matters?" 

"Well, some, but mostly what _I_ think about what Remy thinks about the dress matters." Rogue nodded, took her bag and added it to others she was starting to feel distinctly weighed down by. "C'mon, we got time to pick up some food. Ah'm ready to _eat_ a rock, let alone live under one." 

Kitty grinned, regaining her good humour as they made their way through the crowds. "Probably better for you than the burgers." 

  
"So, we ruled out poisonin', deat' traps an' missin' school books. What else can dey be plannin'?" 

Kurt was about to reply to the only half jesting question when he spotted the objects of their fear walking towards them, swinging their bags to aid their progress through the masses. 

"Here they come! Oh man, they're ... smiling. Act natural." 

Both men leaned nonchalantly back on the plastic chairs, Remy stealing one of Kurt's fries and receiving a tap on the hand for his trouble. 

"Not that natural! Verdammter thief ..." 

The bags were haphazardly strewn around the table as the girls flung themselves into their seats, obviously pleased with themselves. Remy had to grin. It was nice to see that, despite occasionally having to rush off and save the world, the two girls remained true to their age in their ability to shop anyone under the table. Kitty's sudden pensive frown caught him off guard though. 

"What's th' matter petite?" 

"Where are _your_ bags. Didn't you do any shopping at all?" 

"Mais non, we tried but you an' Rogue bought everyt'in' b'fore we could get dere." 

To stave off the incoming squabbling, Kurt reached down and retrieved his own two small bags, holding them up in proof. 

"I shopped! See!" 

"_Two_ bags?" Both girls spoke at once, injecting a note of horror into their tones. 

"What?" 

"Yuh can't have everyone's presents in there. What have yuh bought, book tokens?" 

"And you!" Kitty rounded on Remy, doing everything short of shaking a finger at him. "Where are _your_ bags?" 

He blinked. They expected him to give gifts? They were giving him gifts? Somehow, he'd completely managed to take himself from the celebration equation altogether, vaguely thinking he'd be spending it down at Harry's Bar. He searched desperately around for an answer, and found one he wasn't looking for at all. 

A small gathering was forming in the central court, holding placards, giving out stickers and leaflets. Their regalia proclaimed them to be FOH, Friends Of Humanity. Shame, they were a 'Dolts' away from being Simpsons extras. 

"I t'ink it's time fo' us t' go." 

The others followed his gaze and silently gathered their purchases together, the mood falling in an instant. 

In the midst of the rally, Abigail watched them leave. 

=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-=-= 

**Notes**  
Uhm .. so it's been a while. Sorry, if anyone has been waiting for this. 


	5. Chapter 4

**Disclaimer** It's all Marvel's. No money made. Suing will profit no one.  
**Want?** Take ... Have ... just lemme know where it's going :)  


"So, you've gone all bad and evil. There are meant to be warning signs before this you know! Like ... like ... oh, wait, never mind"   
  
"Kitty, I am not bad or evil. Why are you staring at my eyebrows?" Xavier leant back in his chair and attempted not to succumb to the temptation to check the area in question using the girl's own eyes as a telepathic mirror. But he shook the compulsion off as he continued to address the inhabitants of the Institute, without waiting for a reply to his mostly rhetorical question. "As Ms Kirk won't return my calls for a meeting, I am going to attempt to speak with the gentleman on this tape and see if some form of enlightened understanding can't be found but, until some form of resolution is reached, you are all confined to the mansion save when you're at school. I understand you will almost certainly see Ms Kirk in school, I expect you all to be the well-mannered and considerate people I know you to be. Is that understood?"   
  
He counted one second, then two, before the declamations began in earnest. "Professor, I have cheerleading ... " Jean's protestations were swiftly drowned out under the clamour of the others in the room, save for the adults and, strangely, Rogue and Remy. He frowned at their expressions, the former was almost calculating, the latter simply the pleasantly polite and attentive mask he'd noted was used most often when humouring anybody that held an official capacity, and shortly before committing something doubtless illegal in at least forty-nine states.   
  
He let the hubbub continue until Logan began to give a low rumbling growl in response to the assault on his sensitive ears, then lifted his hands for silence. It wasn't long coming, and from the resigned expressions it didn't look like anyone expected a reprieve.   
  
"I'm sorry, I truly am, but I am not willing to risk anyone's safety any more than absolutely necessary. You may make any excuses you feel feasible to avoid your after school activities, except that you are a blue-furred bipedal entity with a prehensile tail and the mission to hijack the building and take it to Cuba. Kurt."   
  
"But it worked so well last time! I didn't have to go to Soccer practise for three weeks!"   
  
"Yes, and we received three letters from the school councillor and Ororo had to take time from her schedule to reassure the poor woman you were not suffering from schizophrenic delusions, or a mutant." His lips twisted half in a wry smile and half in distaste for a situation where presumed mental instability was ranked with mutantcy.   
  
"Sorry Professor." Kurt hung his head while Kitty held a hand over her stifled giggle, glancing to Evan to see whether he was trying not to laugh aloud. He wasn't. He was looking almost distractedly out the window, as if what was going on had no interest to him at all. She elbowed him in the ribs and was rewarded with a frown as he turned to face her.   
  
"What?"   
  
"Are you okay? It won't be that bad you know."   
  
He hesitated for a moment, then shrugged her away from him with a noncommittal grunt. Kitty stared after him as they all trailed from the room, but lost her train of thought as her eyes widened as she hit the hallway, drawing to a complete halt that had Scott almost performing a feat of contortion to avoid walking into her.   
  
"The dance!"   
  
She whirled around to see a now closed door, then looked to the others as the two little words full meaning finally dawned on them. Jean gave a frustratedly muted shriek and stormed away to mourn over the dress she wouldn't get to drive anyone crazy wearing, while Scott somehow looked faintly relieved before assuming a more consolational approach as he patted Kitty's shoulder.   
  
"It's a week away, all this could be fixed by then."   
  
"Yeah, right, 'cause we always get what we're looking forward to, all the time, without any of this stupid stuff getting in the way." Kitty tried for sarcasm but fell neatly into what sounded like whining, even to her own ears, and trailed off into a grumble.   
  
"Scott's right sugah, we'll make it to the dance one way or another."   
  
"Uh, that's not what I sa..."   
  
Scott was silenced by a look of pure determination from Rogue and sudden sharp brightness from Kitty, and decided to cut his losses right there. "... Danger Room in ten." It wasn't exactly a retreat, he reasoned as he jogged up the stairs, it was a tactical withdrawal. On the way to his room he gave a light knock on Jean's door, waiting until it opened a crack to speak. "Danger Room in ten ... are you okay?"   
  
Jean's slightly red-rimmed eyes narrowed dangerously and his tender frontal lobes felt the ghost of telepathic spike to tell him where he could put his question. This time he decided running away was definitely what he was doing. "Got it, gone."   
  
  
  
Arclight and Scrambler watched their employer as he monitored his laboratory equipment. A slight adjustment to a dial here, checking the air-tightness of a container there, methodical and exact. It had taken him two hours so far to work through even half of the contents they'd set up, and it looked like it would take two hours to do the rest. The woman shifted nervously, not given to praying, but hoping with every cell of her being that he would find nothing amiss. Beside her Scrambler stood stoic, expression inscrutable as he could make it even as his eyes followed the other man's progress around the room. Both felt their breath catch in their throat as the doctor turned holding a beaker and spoke mildly.   
  
"Can either of you cretins tell me, perchance, what a hairline fracture in a glass container can do when subjected to intense heat?"   
  
They shook their heads dumbly and tried not to feel like flies in a spider web as he took a step closer. The feeling could have been aided if his cloak didn't resemble a spider _quite_ so much with the metallic spikes that streamed like liquid from the dark.   
  
"Shall I educate you?" Dr Essex held the glass up before their faces, gripping it so tightly in his gloved hand that the single small fracture soon spawned a hundred more, taking the beaker to the point of shattering. Arclight found her voice first.   
  
"Sorry sir, it won't happen again sir."   
  
After a second the man nodded and stepped back, throwing the beaker against the wall hard enough at impact to leave most of the bits of glass imbedded. "No, I don't expect it will. Get this cleaned up and double checked before I return from my meeting. Everything must be perfect for our guests." And with that he stalked away, form already melting into a shape that was rapidly becoming familiar.   
  
Once sure he had truly gone, Scrambler slumped from almost parade ground attention to something more natural. "Do you think he's really going to get away with this?"   
  
Arclight crouched to begin picking up the shards of glass, careful not to cut herself in the process. It was never a good idea to leave blood lying around the laboratory, Dr. Essex had an almost pathological compulsion to make a use of it. "I think he'll get what he wants, same as usual." Her tone lost it's waspish quality and settled on dark amusement. "But I think we'd better make sure everything's as secure as it can be. I want something a bit harder than thin air between me and the people that will come looking for those kids."   
  
"Heard he was bringing 'tooth in to keep Wolverine busy."   
  
The woman gave an unladylike snort as she stood. "Good, means he's not sniffing around here. Hope they both kill each other."   
  
A guttural laugh from the doorway bought them both around sharply as the massive form of Sabertooth slunk into the room, long strides taking him into the woman's personal space quickly, towering over her by over a head. His rumbling words seemed to erupt rather than be spoken, the base of them just short of painful. "No, say what you really think little girl."   
  
Forcing herself to stand her ground, Arclight looked up into Sabertooths snarling face, then leant forward as if to speak confidentially. "You have rabbit lips. Just here." She used a finger to show on her mouth where he was currently sporting the signs of a fresh kill on his own, then turned and walked away to dispose of the glass, trying to ignore the silence behind her that was mostly being filled with Scrambler's nervous shuffling. When she at last had to glance back, 'tooth was gone. Finally she remembered to breathe.   
  
  
  
He had expected Kitty or Evan to be the first to make a break for it, Gambit usually waited for others to create a diversion before sneaking away. What was of immediate interest was that the kid hadn't noticed he was there while he'd kept perfectly still. Maybe that was the secret to catching him by surprise - get there first. Okay, that had a few flaws. Logan waited until Remy was standing on the wall and ready to jump down on the other side to the street beyond before speaking conversationally from the shadows under the tree. "Nice night for a walk, huh?"   
  
A muttered curse later and Gambit dropped easily down, at least knowing when he was busted. "Mais oui, the moon is covered, the streets are empty, an' y' should have been in the _back_ garden smokin' at least a few minutes more. Perfect night f'r a walk." He glared at Wolverine's impassive expression accusingly.   
  
"Sorry, figured someone might just try takin' advantage of that window. Nice try though. Headed after Chuck, huh?"   
  
After weighing his options, Gambit shrugged with a grin. "Oui"   
  
"C'mon then."   
  
Before Gambit had finished a slow blink of surprise, Wolverine was up and over the wall, landing on the other side lightly. Well, okay then, he joined him. "Jus' t' be clear wit' dis, l'professuer was fairly specific 'bout not doin' 'zactly what we doin', an' Stormy goin' tuh poison our coffee f'r leavin' her 'lone wit' l'petit enfants..."   
  
"I can live with Chuck's deep disappointment, and I'm fair sure _I_ can live through any cyanide attempts."   
  
"Ain't dat jus' tres bien. Say somet'in' nice at m' funeral."   
  
Logan shot the younger man a feral grin as they made their way on foot down the block. "How 'bout 'He shoulda stuck with soda'"?   
  
"Y' a real consolation t' me in m' final hours mon frere."   
  
The warehouse wasn't far away; they grew silent as they approached from the darker side. Without thinking Wolverine held his hand up in a signal to halt, before going into the quick series of gestures for advancing separately. Gambit stared at him blankly for a moment, then simply turned and blended into the shadows, working his way around to where he could climb up towards the skylight, apparently not much caring which route the man with the crazy hand took.   
  
Xavier's car was parked up close to the front door, Wolverine gave it a cursory glance over as he passed. It didn't look like it had been tampered with, but he'd have to go under the hood to be a hundred percent sure. Not the most inconspicuous, or quiet, thing he could pass the time doing. So he ducked into the side-alley instead and made his way half up the fire-escape that creaked just a little under his weight despite his care. Trying to think small and furry thoughts, he crouched down to look through the dust streaked window and into the well lit open space within.   
  
There were two figures, one recognisable as Charles sat in his wheel chair, calmly speaking though too far away for even Logan's ears to make out the words. The other was a tall man that someone other than the watcher might have labelled 'dapper'. Wolverine chose to use other, less flattering, adjectives. Blond hair slicked back, an expensive suit and polished shoes, sporting a small moustache and one hand holding a cane he obviously used for decorative rather than functional purposes.   
  
A glint above, sudden and then gone, caught his eye. It didn't reappear and the angle seemed deliberately placed that only one in his position could have seen it. Remy had somehow made it into the building undetected and now sat somewhere in the darkness of the beams, listening. He settled to a slightly more comfortable position, ready to wait for the long haul.   
  
Up above, Gambit took much the same conclusion and began to flex the muscles in his crouched legs one by one to keep them in a semblance of movement. There was nothing more embarrassing than being caught and falling over with cramp when you made your daring escape. Wincing at the memory from his early childhood, and its repercussions, he listened vaguely to the conversation below as he scanned with other senses for movement in the building. Either there was no one else here, or they were keeping very, very, still. Like him. Well, wasn't that a kick in the teeth, he'd just have to rely on sight.   
  
"Dr Tatum, I assure you that I am making no attempt to coerce your mind other than through reasoned discussion."   
  
The man Remy had mentally labelled 'Mr Hit-waiting-to-happen' shook his head, even if his reply was as calm in tone as the professors. "But you see our problem, Professor Xavier? I have absolutely no method of verifying the truth of that, or any other mutant's claims. What if I were a more important man? The President, perhaps, and a telepath decided they had a political agenda. What if they had decided that _already_?" The man paused for a moment before continuing in a placating fashion. "Please understand I have no interest in some form of genocidal action, and I have the utmost respect for your work towards peaceful co-existence. But I cannot condone mutants living in secret any more than I could, say, a terrorist being allowed to live anonymously in a community. It's simply unfair on those others living there."   
  
Remy wondered idly how upset Xavier would be should he accidentally send a charged card towards the man's head.   
  
~ Extremely ~   
  
After saving himself from falling from his beam, Gambit looked towards the two men. ~Y' knew I was up here?~   
  
~Your thoughts broadcasted strongly for a moment, and I believe Wolverine is outside attempting to fool me into believing he is a cat. We will discuss this once this meeting is over~   
  
~D'accord~   
  
"The difference, Dr Tatum, is that a terrorist has committed a crime. You are talking about exposing children and adults who would wholeheartedly agree with your policies on terrorism, and have no intention of breaking the laws of this country or any other."   
  
Tatum nodded, as if this were an argument he had heard often and countered. "Except for the one percent who would _be_ that terrorist, only with options of destruction on a massive scale that could never be taken away from them." before his words could be refuted, he went on quickly "I do realise you have a method of policing your own, there are often reports of such on the media. But I ask you what of the dangers of that? The collateral damage alone can extend into the millions, not to mention the risk of life. Human, and mutant."   
  
"Mutants _are_ humans doctor ..." Xavier felt a rush of sudden fire as his mind was invaded without warning, not with hostile intent, but with panic.   
  
~Professor, we're under attack. Help, we're~   
  
Jean's link was cut short in an instant as he attempted to send a reply. Each mind he tried to connect to at the mansion was closed to him, it was like a dead area, nothing sentient there at all. So he sent sharp mental alerts to his watchers and gave Tatum a harried and forced smile.   
  
"I'm afraid I must depart, an emergency has occurred. But I would be most interested in continuing this discussion at a later date." He turned the chair and was half to the door before a new voice spoke from where Tatum had been standing. One with a metallic and clinical edge that sounded like a surgical knife.   
  
"No, Professor, I'm afraid I can't allow you to leave quite yet." 


	6. Chapter 5

Disclaimer: It's all Marvel's. No money made. Suing will profit no one.  
  
Want?: Take ... Have ... just lemme know where it's going :)  
  
Sorry: This has taken sooooo long to do. I'm really sorry, I had block like you wouldn't believe. Apologies to anyone that's been waiting for it to turn up.  
  
Notes: ~ words ~ indicates telepathy.  
  
Thank you: Mitchy, without whose whip this chapter would not have been written, nor would it have been particularly readable. Bow down before her mad beta skillz.  
  
-- 0 --  
  
Later, when he felt more confident of being able to form vowel sounds, Scott decided he was going to make an issue about the fact teleporters treated the mansion security like it had a revolving door. At length. And, possibly, at the point of an optic blast. It was the one clear thought in an otherwise sluggishly aware consciousness, and he clung to it with a passion.  
  
Slowly, outside factors began to encroach. The fact his head was pounding indiscriminately, the smell of ozone was permeating everything and there was a cold wind numbing his face and hands. Either the mansion was suddenly missing a wall, or he was no longer within its relative security. Neither option sounded good.  
  
A sudden jolt bought previously background nausea to the fore. A sound must have escaped him, though he didn't remember making a noise, because a high tenor male voice drifted from somewhere above, answered by a second, rumbling tone that he knew he should recognise but couldn't quite put a name to. Someone he didn't like, that much he knew.  
  
"He's waking up, wanna put him under, or shall I?"  
  
"I know, let 'im wake up, not like he's goin' anywhere."  
  
"Xavier ..."  
  
" ... is being took care of real well. You always such a pansy, or is this a special occasion?"  
  
"Yeah, but what if he sees..."  
  
"Sees what? Anyway, who's he gonna tell? Besides, even he's smart enough not to do that when he don't have his visor on. Wouldn't want to hit one of his little friends, now would he?"  
  
This time Scott heard the small groan he made, given more out of hope thwarted than pain this time. The tone of the last words suggested they had been directed at him rather than the hesitant man, and he nodded as carefully as he could as he croaked out. "I won't open my eyes."  
  
There was just a grunt in response but nothing that suggested his consciousness was about to become an issue again, so at least he was able to make more sense of his surroundings. Something was restraining him at the wrists, ankles and chest to what felt like some kind of stretcher. The surface was cold and hard, he could smell a hint of chlorine and, presumably, at least two people were carrying him. They weren't giving him a smooth journey, either. He was tilted down towards his feet, so the taller was in front, directly in the path of his blast if he lifted his head just enough.  
  
The band around his neck was tight, but not so restricting he didn't have just a little moving room. One shot and worry about the guy behind him after that? He seemed the nervous kind; he'd probably freeze for long enough that Scott could free himself. Assuming he didn't cut his own limbs off in the attempt, of course. Briefly, he considered taking the chance despite the warning. Maybe he would get lucky. But, then again, maybe he wouldn't. Perhaps waiting for a sign the others were waking would .  
  
Finally his mind began to process the fact that the 'little friends' were his friends, and his arms pulled involuntarily against the steel bands restraining them as the realisation sent a cold chill through him, forcing the last of the fog away.  
  
"Is anyone hurt? Who else did you take?" Something between a growl and a snort was the response, striking a chord and prompting a name at last. "Sabretooth, what have you done to them?"  
  
"Shuddup One-Eye. You're all just going on a little school outing. Quiet down or it's bed time, the hard way."  
  
If there were really others here, they could be hurt, badly. Would whoever had taken them want them alive? Sense insisted yes, but fear provided a negative. A flash of smoke and fire invaded his memory. Jean screaming for the Professor before she was abruptly silenced, Rogue and Kitty scrambling to cover Kurt's unmoving form while the walls shook. Storm's fury in the form of a tempest shattering the windows in on them all. Terrible scenarios flashed through his mind, each one worse than the last as imagination stole over blurred memory. How long had he been out of it? A hundred horrible things could have happened in a minute, let alone an hour, or maybe even longer.  
  
Panic over-rode caution, Scott opened his eyes.  
  
-- 0 --  
  
The form of Tatum flickered like a badly tuned television, one moment the smartly dressed shining light of the FOH, the next a looming monster of white skin and dark metal, red eyes gleaming with victory in a fight Xavier hadn't known he was part of until a second ago.  
  
"Essex." The Professor's voice was flat with a degree of loathing Remy would have been surprised he could possess, if he had been paying attention.  
  
"Doctor Essex, thank you. Formalities are so important on these occasions, they make the inevitable violence far more enjoyable. Mr LeBeau, I believe both you and your destructive tendencies may come down from the rafters. I'm afraid Professor Xavier would be quite dead before those cards you're currently charging came anywhere near me."  
  
~ Come down, Gambit. ~  
  
Le Professeur's mind voice sounded calm, which gave Remy some faint hope as he struggled to reverse the charge in the cards. It wasn't something he had a lot of practice in at the best of times, preferring to let the object explode rather than struggle to neutralise the kinetic energy, and under stress it was even harder.  
  
Finally, as his hands began to shake with the effort, the pink glow gave one last flare and disappeared. He dropped lightly down from the beam to land in a cat-like crouch beside Xavier. "  
  
"Bonsoir, docteur. Il n'est pas plaisant pour vous revoir. "  
  
Essex smiled, a blood red slash against the chalk of his features. "No, I don't imagine it is. Tell me, Professor, why is the redoubtable Wolverine attempting to convince me he's a small cat?"  
  
"Because, I imagine, he would prefer you not to realise he's there before he attacks. I suspect he will live with the disappointment."  
  
"With the disappointment, perhaps." The razor smile came again. "But with very little else. Tell him to come in peacefully, Charles."  
  
"No, Nathaniel, I don't think I will. What have you done?" There was a level deliberation to Xavier's tone that Remy found almost chilling. It was as if he'd put all thought of the mansion and the fate of its inhabitants from his mind, as if he had all the time in the world to trade words with the mad scientist.  
  
At the back of his mind he noted the sensation of movement from the shadows surrounding them, sudden enough to make him queasy. The scent of sulphur drifted through the stale air of the warehouse.  
  
Two more people, maybe three, it was hard to tell. Something seemed to be interfering with his spatial awareness and he shut that part of his brain monitoring off. Almost immediately the world took on a greater clarity. Enough that he was able to follow the conversation and see the smug amusement in Sinister's expression.  
  
"Me? I have done nothing but detain you. In fact, feel free to leave. Enough time has passed. Save for Mr. LeBeau, his presence is required."  
  
Remy let his head begin to shake a denial, the cards up his sleeve sliding into his hand in an instant, and he let adrenaline fuel his power as he bled supercharged energy into them. Out of the corner of his eye he saw the wheelchair turn slightly, but whatever Xavier's response might have been he didn't care. Rational thought had no bearing over the paranoia that the Professor would turn him over to Sinister in a heartbeat if it meant rushing to his students' aid, and he'd die before he was in Sinister's tender care once more. Last time the Hellfire Club had afforded him some protection, but not now.  
  
"Required in school too, don't mean Gambit show."  
  
~ Don't. ~  
  
Fear made him unable to obey the command from the Professor, he threw the super-charged pieces of cardboard in an arc of explosive potential and all hell broke loose.  
  
Mister Sinister bought his hands up with a snarl of sudden anger, blasts of pure force incinerating the cards some distance away from him. Before he could begin to truly panic, Remy heard the roar of Wolverine behind him. It was strange how the sound could be so comforting when it wasn't directed towards him.  
  
He ducked. It seemed like a good idea at the time but, without the constant tracking of motion around him, he felt more vulnerable. Sparing a brief moment of pity for those who literally could not see what was coming for them, he opened the channel once more. Now there were four, five, six people heading in.  
  
"Wolverine, we got to leave."  
  
A bestial roar was the only response, and he didn't feel like trying to calm down a berserker-mode Logan at just that moment. He spared a glance for the Professor, whose eyes were blank and sightless. Probably trying to contact Jean, or one of the others. Wonderful, it was one man and his pet attack Wolverine against seven.  
  
His eyes strained, trying to make out the figures his mind insisted were moving towards him. But there were only two that he could see, despite the evidence. Which meant Sinister was somehow messing with his powers. He shut down again and immediately regretted it as a line of fire cut over his shoulder from one of the shadowy figures firing what appeared, from a quick glance, to be a bow.  
  
Gritting his teeth, Remy grabbed the handles of the wheelchair and ran himself and Xavier towards the exit, trying to ignore how vulnerable his back felt. The sounds of the battle faded behind him as his feet pounded on the concrete in time with his heartbeat, both solid, both fast, both sending jolts through his system.  
  
The door seemed far away and, in a moment of sudden certainty, he knew he wasn't going to make it. With one last heave, he pushed the chair out the door. Not a second had passed since it left his hands then there was a millisecond of agony in every nerve of his system. Then . nothing.  
  
-- 0 --  
  
Awareness came slowly, little fragments of random memory pulling her away from something she knew was important, but could never quite grasp under the tangents her thought process inevitably took. It was tempting to just relax back into the fog of sleep, the bed was warm, the sound of rain outside the window soothing in its intensity. But she wouldn't sleep again, she would awake suddenly with her heart pounding from the rush of wasted adrenaline, and she would remember. She knew that much, it happened every night.  
  
"Abbie ..."  
  
Abigail sat upright with a ragged breath, eyes searching the darkness of her bedroom for the source of the soft voice, the fading whisper, she knew lived only in her head. Every night. Sometimes she could go back to sleep, the regularity of it de-sensitising her to the ache that inevitably unfurled in her chest and worked its way up to constrict her throat and burn her eyes with tears she no longer shed.  
  
But not tonight.  
  
Tonight she let the memories in and switched on the small light by her bedside, fingers brushing over the glasses she wore by habit if not need, tapping the lens once to assure herself she was awake. Come dawn the little ritual seemed foolish, even pointless, but it was another of the habits that defined her three a.m.  
  
The shadows made strange patterns on her wall. They seemed so real now, and would seem so surreal in the morning, that she knew. Now was the time to speak, and so she spoke, clearing her voice of the night first.  
  
"Hello Sam. I wrote momma today, she's okay. Everything's fine here, I think that idea I told you about's working. Anyway, it looks like it is,  
  
I mean, they would have got me already if it wasn't, right? Did you have a good day, how's Becky?"  
  
And, as the ritual dictated, she never received an answer. 


	7. Chapter 6

Disclaimer It's all Marvel's. No money made. Suing will profit no one.  
  
Want? Take ... Have ... just lemme know where it's going :)  
  
Thank you everyone that's reviewed so far! It's those and the death threats that keep me going :P  
  
ishandahalf: I too am glad I'm not lying dead in a ditch someplace, it'd really cramp my style ;)  
  
Rai: Can I stop wearing flame retardent gloves to open my email now? :D  
  
Rascal: What happens next? Well, I thought I would kill them all. Ah hahahhhhahahahahahh. Coughs. Or, you know, not. Maybe Disneyland.  
  
----------------------------------------------------------  
  
"Yo, Lance? Didn't we used to have a front door? And, you know, windows?"  
  
Lance stood open mouthed before the wreckage that was once the front of the Boarding House, ignoring Todd's knee-jerk humour in favour of running inside. The floorboards warped worryingly underfoot; chunks of masonry were still falling off the walls.  
  
"Fred? Pietro?"   
  
The only reply was a light fixture giving up its defiance of gravity, swinging down on the cable and past his ear. He flinched to the side and yelled again, louder.  
  
Toad's reedy voice called through, tight with nerves. "It looks like it's gonna fall anytime and I am so not gonna dig you out if you get buried."  
  
A slight shudder ran under him and the door to the front room fell off its hinges, slamming to the floor and creating another strong tremor he felt through the souls of his feet.  
  
He backed out onto the street once more.  
  
"Maybe a quake hit it. A really, really ... specific one." Todd turned suspicious eyes on Avalanche, who finally glanced his way frowning at the accusation. He barely managed to evade the swinging slap to the back of his head.  
  
"I've been in the work shop all night, idiot. It wasn't a quake, Pietro must've gone sonic in there."  
  
The pavement jumped lightly under their feet, but this time it wasn't emanating from the building. Both turned to see Fred making his way laboriously towards them, chewing his way through a burger a touch bigger than his own head. He hadn't noticed them, or the state of the house and, unless they got his attention, Lance realised he was about to walk right over them. On his list of preferred ways to die, being trampled by a huge fat guy didn't come high.  
  
"Fred. Fred!"  
  
It took at while for the Blob to stop; his stomach maintained a forward momentum long after his feet had ceased moving. Eventually everything settled and he looked with confusion over the top of his snack. "What?"  
  
"Look at the house."  
  
Fred took another bite of the burger as he obediently swung his head to look at the Boarding House, and then began to choke as he tried to gasp a breath of processed meat. He was going purple before Toad threw himself bodily at the massive back with enough force to dislodge the obstruction.   
  
Once he'd regained the ability to speak, Fred rounded on Lance. "What did you do??"  
  
"I didn't do anything." Lance stood nose to nose with the other man, fast becoming angrier about being suspected than he was about the House itself. "Look at it, fat head. If I'd done that there wouldn't be walls left! It had to be Pietro."  
  
Fred backed down slightly, ducking his head a little to acknowledge the reasoning, then snapping it back up again and jabbing one thick finger into Lance's chest. "Don't call me fat."  
  
Lance shoved the finger away and took a deep breath, then let it out slowly. "Okay, Toad, go find Mystique. She probably doesn't know about this yet, or she'd be here yelling at me too. Fred, stay here. Right here. Don't move."  
  
Grumbling, Todd bounced away as Fred simply shrugged and chose not to question orders that let him finish his food in peace.  
  
Lance crept back into the house. He was fairly sure it wasn't going to collapse just yet. Several years of causing sudden destruction had given him a fairly good idea of when something was about to fall down, go boom. The building couldn't be saved; there was way too much structural damage for anything but a wrecking ball to deal with. But he should have some time to try and piece together what had happened.  
  
Slowly, he inched his way up the stairs, keeping tight to the wall to avoid putting undue stress on the floor he wasn't sure would support a rat, let alone himself. The wood still creaked and rippled alarmingly, but it held.  
  
On the second floor the damage was far less catastrophic. Doors were still in their frames and there were even a few cracked pictures on the walls. They'd been cracked when he'd first arrived, so that was nothing new. Down the hall was Pietro's room. The door had been slammed open hard enough to leave an impact mark in the whitewash of the wall by it. But it had been opened from the inside, not the outside.  
  
So, Pietro had known there was a problem and run. Towards or away, he didn't know. One glance inside the room solved that mystery, the window had been blown in and shards of glass were still sticking into the wall opposite it. He'd been running away, definitely away.  
  
Lance turned and slowly made his way back to the top of the stairs, trying to think and absently noting details along the way. The real destruction didn't begin until half way down the stairs, where Pietro would have been able to see the front door. So, he'd seen something there and panicked. He wouldn't have been able to go back, so he would have tried to force his way past whatever had been ahead. And the little daddy's boy had created a sucking vortex in his wake.   
  
Great. Perfect. Parfait, even. Hey, some of Kitty's French help was sticking after all, who knew?  
  
He resisted the urge to jog down as he normally would and maintained the slow and careful pace back along the corridor towards the darkness of the street outside and the barely illuminated blob of shadow that was, well, Blob.  
  
Greeted by the sight of the last piece of burger being chewed, opened mouthed, he grimaced and looked away.   
  
"Did'ja find what happened?"  
  
"We were attacked."  
  
"Well, duh. Who by?"  
  
"How should I know? Call a psychic line."  
  
"Mystique's gonna be pissed."   
  
"No, I'm pissed. She's gonna be homicidal, man."  
  
There was a screech up the street as a car took the corner on two wheels and barrelled towards them. Lance felt oddly relieved as he recognised it as the vehicle she drove as Principle Darkholme. Sure, she was going to scream and yell and probably threaten everyone on the planet, including them, with immediate annihilation but Mystique would get it all fixed. Well, maybe not the Boarding House. 'Construction Worker' probably wasn't amongst her many skills.  
  
Toad was the first out, almost falling out the door of back seat and to the sidewalk with a white face and trembling hands. His eyes were wide beyond terror, and he seemed to have some trouble standing upright. Weakly, he mumbled. "Can we go again?"  
  
Mystique was calm and collected, in an icy fashion, as she exited from the driver's side and stalked around the front of the car towards Lance and Blob. Silently, she surveyed both of them as if they were on parade, then seemed to choose Lance as the one voted most likely to give coherent information.  
  
As she stared at him, he fought back the urge to either cower, or stand to attention, settling for a one-shoulder slouch. He also knew better than to talk before her, so he simply met her eyes and waited.  
  
"What happened here?" Was that a slight disappointment with his refusal to give her something to pick on? Oh, it really was. He managed to keep the glee from his tone as he replied.  
  
"It looks like someone or something came in the upstairs window to Pietro's room, and he ran. Really ran. The only thing keeping that building together is the gunk."  
  
"I see. And can we presume he is now missing, presumed held against his will?" Raven didn't wait for an answer, looking pensively up at the Boarding House, but seeing something entirely different. "His father will have to be informed."  
  
-o-  
  
As he came back to himself in a rush, Xavier discovered two things.   
  
The first was that he was moving and no one was steering. He was on an icy hill and he appeared to be gaining speed.   
  
The second was that, while he had been able to establish mental contact with some of those still at the mansion, and his brief astral sojourn had verified everyone was alive; he could no longer gain a telepathic fix on anyone in the warehouse.  
  
While the second fact was deeply worrying, the first gained precedence as he noted his course was hurtling him towards a reasonably busy intersection. The wheels of the chair were turning too fast for him to do anything other than break his hands if he tried to manually stop them and, as this was not his usual wheelchair, there was no setting to bring him to a gentle halt. Using the current break would bring him to a sudden enough stop he'd be thrown straight out and probably into the road.  
  
Gritting his teeth he threw all his weight back and to the side, felt the spokes buckle under protest. For a moment he tilted precariously, then the entire chair spun to throw him out and finally stop a few feet away, wheels spinning, one bent at a pathetic angle.  
  
For a moment, he just lay where he was, cataloguing himself. Nothing appeared to be broken; his tweed jacket had taken much of the scraping along the paving slabs. Craning his head, he checked his legs. Both appeared straight and unbroken, in all, he was fine.   
  
Surprisingly, a few cars were slowing. A woman was hurrying over with an expression of concern, reaching into her purse to find her cell phone. He felt a brief moment of warmth that, even with the world as it was; strangers would still reach out to help strangers. It was almost with regret that he gently clouded their minds and removed what they had seen of him.   
  
The cars sped up again; the woman shook her head and blinked, then moved away. He dragged himself over to his chair, grateful now for the punishing upper body workout he insisted upon giving himself daily. He managed to flip it upright, wedging it against the wall and applying the brake firmly, before hauling himself back into it.  
  
There was no chance he could use it, the seat was tilted at an extreme angle and one wheel almost bent double on itself, but it was better than sitting on a frozen sidewalk. He debated on whom to contact at the mansion. Storm's mind was still too chaotic as she attempted to rein herself, and the weather, back under control.  
  
~ Rogue, can you hear me? ~  
  
~ Yeah, Professor ~  
  
Usually he was privately amused how strongly her accent followed into her mind-voice, that it followed at all. Most mind communication was flavourless that way, but Rogue managed to keep her roots close even there. Now, though, he had more pressing things on his mind.  
  
~ Have you managed to revive Kurt? ~  
  
~ He's awake, but he's seein' double again. Boy gets hit on the head more'n the rest've us together. ~  
  
There was an undercurrent of worry to her mind that she was keeping firmly under control, but he wasn't surprised at its source, only that she hadn't yet asked. He tried to break the situation to her as gently as possible.  
  
~ I'm afraid there has been a problem. I am some distance from the warehouse and unable to return, is Kurt able to teleport to me with a new chair? ~  
  
There was a moment of panic, and then thought won through once more.  
  
~ Ah don't think so Professor, he's really out've it. Kitty's just trying to keep him awake as best she can. Storm put in a call to Doctor McCoy, she said you'd want that. ~  
  
~ That's perfectly fine, Rogue. I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to take Scott's car and pick us up. ~   
  
He felt terrible at the relief that rushed through her as he inferred that they were all safe and well, but he simply couldn't risk her driving whilst anxious. Although her informal lessons with Scott had allegedly been going well, he dreaded to think of the damage she might do to herself or others if she were upset behind the wheel.  
  
~ I'm leavin' right now ~  
  
And the connection broke as if she'd hung up. He almost recoiled from the shock and when he tried to find her again, he simply couldn't. With mounting worry he scanned for the rest of the inhabitants of the mansion, but they all pinged on his psychic radar.   
  
She shouldn't have been able to make herself a ghost to him, he didn't even know if she was aware she had. There was only one other with the innate ability to do so that he was aware of. Gambit. The train of thought was filed away for consideration at a less hectic time as he heard the sound of pounding feet behind him.  
  
He looked that way quickly; frankly he had expected pursuers far sooner. But, rather than Sinister or any of his Marauders, it was Logan. A visual once over showed no sign of injury, save to his jacket and jeans, which were ripped through and covered in the dust of the warehouse.   
  
"Logan!" He dropped the mental mask he had been wearing to shield himself from scrutiny and Wolverine pulled up sharply as he saw him.  
  
The other man's gaze flicked over the chair and the disarray of Xavier, and then he wasted no further time.  
  
"They're gone, took the Cajun with'em. Musta used a terrasect, 'cause there's no trail. Knocked me out cold, don't know why I'm still breathin'."  
  
Xavier felt his lips tighten with disgust for Essex. "Because he likes to leave enemies alive as a sign of his contempt for them."  
  
"Stupid."  
  
"Yes, well, fortunate for us in this case. Rogue is on her way with transport to get us back to the Institute. Scott and Jean are missing and Kurt has a likely concussion, but Ororo has called Hank McCoy."  
  
"You let Rogue drive?" There was no little horror in the man's tone.  
  
"I don't believe I had a choice."  
  
They both fell into silence, an uncomfortable one as both had the leisure to consider the new piece of information they hadn't wanted to mention. Wolverine broke first.  
  
"The kid knew Sinister."  
  
"It would seem so."  
  
"Think they're in this together?"  
  
"No, I don't. But … it is troubling. He should have told us."  
  
"He was scared, stunk of it. Haven't smelled that on him before."  
  
The silence returned, and stayed, until the red sports car drew up beside them and promptly stalled. Rogue looked over with slightly flushed cheeks and a proud expression, which died when she counted one too few passengers.  
  
"Where's Remy?" 


	8. Chapter 7

Disclaimer It's all Marvel's. No money made. Suing will profit no one.  
  
Want? Take ... Have ... just lemme know where it's going :)  
  
Thank you again to everyone that's taken the time to review / threaten my personal health :P Also, to Mitchy, for maken I spel gud.  
  
cool-chick-rae: I'm having problems thinking of any Rogue incarnation driving that doesn't make me slightly scared o_0  
  
Rai: Too late, v.scared. Somehow updated through my terror :P  
  
ishandahalf: I'm not sure if I updated fast enough to qualify as a bunny on crack. Ferret on amphetamines, maybe?  
  
- o -  
  
"Explain to me, again, precisely what happened." The low timbered voice was far, far too calm and Lance ran a dry tongue over his lips with growing unease.  
  
"It was last night, after eight and before midnight. He, uh, he was attacked on the top floor and then ran downstairs and..."  
  
He trailed away under the level stare of Magneto. Did the man never blink? It wasn't that there was anger in his gaze; he could have dealt with that. No, there was nothing there at all. It was like he was looking through a microscope and Lance was just one more amoeba in the pile.  
  
"Magneto." Finally, the piercing eyes turned from him as Mystique spoke. She continued into the askance-filled hush. "I believe I may be able to shed some light on Pietro's abductors."  
  
"Really?" There was a wealth of emphasis in the one word, somehow making it a scornful threat and a controlled suggestion of anger all at once.  
  
"A man applied for a position at the school that I had advertised through . certain channels. His name was Grey-Crow."  
  
Lance watched the two in the silence that followed, they seemed to be weighing a conversation between them, making all the moves and seeing the implications of the information in their heads before they spoke. Magneto was the first to speak, with a nod.  
  
"So."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"You will find Essex, you will deal with him and you will return my son. Or I will be forced to intervene. Do not force me to intervene."  
  
The shadows around the cloaked figure flickered, giving him an impossible height. Lance knew it was only his mind that Magneto grew so tall and dangerous, but that didn't help. He curved his shoulders, trying to draw his lanky frame in on itself to make as small a target as possible as a primeval portion of his brain told him to scurry into the nearest burrow and escape the predator.  
  
Toad, fully in touch with his inner prey, was already under the couch, wide eyes just visible in the gloom.  
  
"NOW."  
  
Even Mystique flinched. Lance managed to avoid a reactionary strike with an earthquake, tripling his headache as he aborted the power he had directed into the ground back into himself. Better seeing double than bringing their temporary home down around their ears. Not to mention the endless amount Magneto would kill him.  
  
Then the man, the myth, the legend was gone. And Toad slowly crawled out from his hole. "Who's Grey-Crow?"  
  
"Yeah, and who's Essex."  
  
He'd almost managed to forget Fred was there; somehow he'd managed to keep so still he'd just become another piece of extremely large furniture during the entire thing.  
  
"John Grey-Crow, also known as Scalphunter. He's the leader of Nathanial Essex's Marauders. I couldn't imagine why Sinister would be so bold as to let himself be known to me so obviously. He wanted us to know he was here."  
  
Her eyes widened briefly, and she began to laugh. It was a softly mocking sound that built to a half-maddened giggle, before she abruptly spoke with no trace of the slight hysterics.  
  
"It would seem we are in need of the X-Fools cooperation again. Avalanche, go to the Institute and apprise them of our situation. I doubt it will come as a shock. Be quite sure to tell them of Magneto's involvement should we fail to extract Quicksilver. Feel free to remind them, as many times as you deem necessary, that this is a man able to reverse the polarity of the earth at a whim."  
  
Lance nodded jerkily and turned towards the door at something close to a run, glad to be given something to do, glad to be gone from a clearly unhinged Mystique. Mostly, glad to be given the chance to forget there was a man able to reverse the polarity of the earth at a whim.  
  
-o-  
  
Scott looked up into the slightly pale face of a young Asian man; he couldn't be much older than himself. Then, it registered that said young Asian man was in living Technicolor, rather than shades of red, and conspicuously not being in receipt of his optic blasts.  
  
"You opened your eyes." Whoever he was, he sounded obscurely reproachful.  
  
"And, yet, you're not flying back thirty feet, unconscious."  
  
There was a snort, presumably from Sabretooth, which the other ignored with a suddenly brighter smile.  
  
"Scrambler. I scramble. I can make mutants way stronger, or switch powers around, or reverse them or just stop them working at all. Cool, huh?"  
  
"Well, from where I'm lying, not knocking you all out and escaping, no. Not really. Unless you feel like going the 'way stronger' route." Scott tried to keep his tone as even and level as he could. The guy didn't have the feel of the usual crazed maniacs they seemed to attract; maybe it would be worth trying to make friends.  
  
"Shut it, you know better than to make friendly with the rats." The low growl of warning from Sabertooth killed that hope as Scrambler gave an awkward little shrug and fixed his eyes ahead, now ignoring the occupant of the stretcher.  
  
Scott took the moment to look around him, trying to focus over the overwhelming desire to shout for joy despite his situation. Colours he'd barely remembered from childhood were back once more; it was more the pity they seemed to have entered a massive doorway into some kind of complex and the panorama was mostly limited to washed-out greys.  
  
Surgical strip lighting ran along the ceiling, too bright, too white, chasing out any shadows from the long steel lined corridor. Craning his head up and around, he was just able to make out the edges of another stretcher behind him. It was carried by a woman at the fore, though he couldn't make out the form of the one at the rear. The shimmer of red hair tumbling over the side of the other stretcher was visible briefly before he had to settle back, or risk breaking his neck. Jean, and definitely unconscious or she would have been talking.  
  
The sound of an explosion further along the corridor made him tense against the restraints. Heat washed over him and there was ringing in his ears. Slowly he began to pick out the sound of shouting, and an echoing run. Smaller explosions peppered closer, along the ceiling, and, one by one, the lights began to go out.  
  
Holding his head up, Scott was just able to make out a stream of pink arcing over him and towards the entrance. It could only be their resident thief. He didn't pause to wonder what he was doing there, could only think of stopping the Cajun before he fell into Scrambler's range.  
  
"Not this way!"  
  
A large, hairy, hand covered his mouth and the clawed nails digging painfully into the side of his head discouraged him from trying to bite. His warning had come too late, he could only watch as Gambit come into his view and the card he had been holding abruptly lost it's charge.  
  
"Scrambler?"  
  
"LeBeau?"  
  
"Aren't you dead!?"  
  
Both spoke the last in unison as the two stared at each other in shock for a scant second before Gambit was jerked away from Scott's view with a cut off yelp and the sharp slap of flesh striking flesh. The procession resumed, only the soft sound of the wheels of the gurney over the slick floor and the shuffle of those walking giving any relief to the almost oppressive quiet.  
  
The hand was removed as something sharp jabbed into his arm. He opened his mouth to protest, but even his teeth felt suddenly numb, let alone his tongue. The fight to stay conscious was brief, and fixed.  
  
- o -  
  
"Lance, you're, like, hyperventilating."  
  
Kitty watched her would-be-suitor squirming in Logan's grip. He was talking a mile a minute and even Xavier was frowning as he tried to make sense of the torrent of words.  
  
"Kitty is correct, stop talking. Breathe."  
  
Lance obeyed, drawing a ragged breath of air to refill his lungs. As that felt good, and seemed to help with the spots in front of his eyes, he took another. Oh yeah, that was the stuff.  
  
"Pietro. Essex. Magneto."  
  
Logan tightened his grip on the back of the young man's shirt, causing the taller Lance to rise onto tiptoe with a strangled sound as the material cut across his enjoyment of oxygen.  
  
"Logan, release him."  
  
Slowly, and with a sense of reluctance, Wolverine relaxed his hold. Xavier manoeuvred his wheel chair before the boy and studied him. It was so easy to forget that these were just children. Avalanche was undoubtedly powerful and, unless his course could be altered, undoubtedly growing into a fine terrorist for Magneto. But, now, at this moment, he was still in high school, he was a child, and he was scared out of his wits. He sighed and shook his head.  
  
"Lance, will you allow me to read your mind? Just the surface thoughts, it will be far more expedient."  
  
Lance's eyes glazed with incomprehension. "Wha'?"  
  
"Quicker, it will be quicker."  
  
The boy's eyes narrowed and he shook his head slightly. "No way, old man. Get your monkey off my back and maybe I'll get the chance to tell you."  
  
Xavier kept the twitch of a smile from his lips and nodded sombrely. Lance was released entirely and he made a show of dusting off his clothing as Logan crossed his arms with an expression of amusement. If the shaking in his hands were ignored, the lad was pulling himself together remarkably well.  
  
"The Boarding House got attacked, Pietro got took. Magneto's gonna do something about it unless we get him back. Mystique sent me to let you know, and remind you he can reverse the parity of the Earth on a whine." Lance took a moment to look around at the debris of the mansion. "Guess you geeks got hit too, huh?"  
  
There was a pause while those listening to him substituted the appropriate words, then a series of quiet coughs. He frowned.  
  
"What?"  
  
The moment of amusement passed into a sombre quiet. Rogue, who had been unmoving in the corner, sat with her knees drawn up to her chest, finally spoke. Her voice was tinged with a bitter sarcasm he'd thought she'd lost since joining the X-Freaks.  
  
"Y'all come runnin' on over here every time there's a problem, sugah, not to him. Why is that?" She surged away from the wall, tight faced and tone more vicious than even Kitty could remember. "Ah think if he could do somethin', he'd've done it. But he can't, 'cause all he can do is the big things, the little things got him whupped. He can't find his son, or Scott, or Jean, or, or, anyone else. So we're all you've got ta stop him reversin' your personal polarity."  
  
Lance fell back before her, nervously watching her gloved hands. When she began to peel one away, Ororo stood and spoke calmly. "Rogue, we are all concerned for the welfare of those missing, but I do not believe you will gain further information that way."  
  
Rogue's eyes blazed as she rounded on Storm. The woman gave a shocked cry, reflected by a rattle of thunder above. The white strip of the girl's hair was now a strong auburn, the shade of Jean's. Her eyes glowed red and her hands glowed a violently crackling pink.  
  
"Rogue!"  
  
Xavier reached for her mind and found it a whirl of impressions, none of them the girl herself, but an amalgam of those she had touched. Then the ghost-like shield covered her and, despite the evidence of his eyes, she was no longer in the room.  
  
"They're scared and they're in the dark and you're doing nothing to help us!"  
  
"We are." He strove to create a grounding she could fight her way back to with his voice alone. "Rogue, listen to me. Where are you?"  
  
"It's not far, couldn't have been out for that long. Professor, why can't you hear me? Scott won't wake up and Pietro won't shut up and Remy won't speak to me at all."  
  
"Jean?"  
  
"Professor? Professor! Where are you?"  
  
"Jean, we're coming. Stay calm. Can you see anything that might give an indication of your location?"  
  
"We're underground, I was unconscious when they bought us."  
  
The link, or whatever it had been, cut. Rogue swayed, the lock of hair returning to white, her eyes resettling to their normal shade. The glow around her hands was the last to die and, when at last it did, she pitched forward.  
  
Without thinking, Lance caught her a split second before Evan managed to gain a purchase on her arms. Gently, they lowered her to the ground.  
  
"That wasn't telepathy, Chuck." Logan's voice was flat; it was a statement, not a question.  
  
"I don't know what it was. But we know, at least, they are still alive. And, they are together." Xavier looked around the ring of suddenly enlivened faces, only Evan's turned away as he attempted to revive Rogue without touching her skin. Lance stood a little back, trying to pretend he never made the effort to help at all.  
  
"They are alive." He repeated, strongly. "And we will find them."  
  
"Ja!" Kurt punched the air exuberantly, and then seemed to regret it as he leant somewhat woozily against Kitty.  
  
Enthusiasm was short lived as the Wolverine drew a sharp breath. With the sensors down, his nose was the closest thing to a proximity alert they had while the Professor was too engaged to make mental scans. There was the scent of a familiar perfume on the breeze.  
  
"We got incoming."  
  
"Hello?"  
  
The voice came hesitantly as Abigail picked her way over the rubble and into the thin light to stand next to the large form of Doctor McCoy. 


	9. Chapter 8

**Disclaimer** It's all Marvel's. No money made. Suing will profit no one.  
**Want?** Take ... Have ... just lemme know where it's going :)  
  
So sorry this has taken so long, nearly a year between updates. Ouch. RL kinda grabbed me and didn't let go and the urge to write took a while to come back. o.0

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His hand was travelling to his face before he really awoke; the habit to check whether his eyes were covered so ingrained it was instinct, not thought. Instead of a cold metal visor his fingers found soft warm skin and made sense of it a moment later - a hand holding his eyelids down.  
  
A woman's voice whispered his name and after a few more moments he felt nearly able to recognise who had spoken.   
  
"_Jmph?_" He tried again. "Jean?" His tongue felt heavy and uncoordinated, the effort of holding his hand up was strangely tiring and he let it fall back to his side.  
  
"You don't have your visor on so keep your eyes closed. Our powers aren't working but yours might be … maybe."  
  
Her voice was tight and thin and, now, he could feel the tension in the hand touching him.   
  
"Okay. Staying closed."  
  
The hand withdrew and he missed the contact immediately, without the grounding it gave him his world was silent and black until little sounds and smells began to fill the void. Breathing, cigarette smoke, a rustle of clothing at his side.  
  
"Who else is here … and where is here?"  
  
"Gambit and Quicksilver. Quicksilver's ... asleep." While not able to see it, he could picture a slightly guilty expression to go with the tone on the final word.  
  
"Asleep, asleep, or drugged, asleep?"  
  
"Unconscious, asleep. I hit him a bit harder than I meant to."  
  
"Oh. Gambit, what do you know?"  
  
Complete silence and then Jean spoke again. "He's not talking but he looked up, that's more than he's done for me in the last hour."  
  
"Shock or just scared"  
  
"Could be scared …" Another rustle before she went on with more amusement. "Or not, now he's making some very rude hand signs. I don't even know what the last one was. I could describe it, if you want."  
  
Scot rolled his eyes under their lids, almost opening them before squeezing them shut more tightly against the urge. "Feel free not to. Remy, talk to me - this blind leading the blind has got to stop."  
  
Jean's hand, or at least he presumed it was hers, smacked his shoulder for the comment but a low mutter came from his right, eventually forming into words he could recognise. "You in the middle of a fifteen, fifteen, fifteen room. Walls, ceiling an' floor're adamantium. The door is molecularly bond and unbond t' the wall t' your left so it don' exist 'less someone on the outside hit a button. Happy?"  
  
"I could be happier." He stretched his legs, pleased to find them responding to his commands at last. "How do you know all that?"  
  
"Gambit got eyes, home."  
  
There was a short flurry of noises he couldn't translate to an image in his mind, but when Gambit went on he sounded slightly winded.  
  
"And he been a place like dis b'fo'. He be happy t' explain if y' call off the crazy red-head."  
  
"Jean?"  
  
He felt her brush against him again as she settled back and he knew the tremors in her body had nothing to do with fear. 'Never upset a red-headed woman' was a lesson he'd learned within his first week of meeting her, he would have thought Remy would have figured it out a lot quicker than that.  
  
Slowly the events before he was drugged began to surface and he spoke outloud as much for his own benefit as anyone else's, trying to complete the mental jigsaw. "I saw Sabretooth and a guy calling himself Scrambler …" a vague memory of the trip down the corridor resurfaced through the haze and he cut across his originally intended question with another. "Scrambler. He knew you?"  
  
"Oui."   
  
A carelessly bland tone that gave nothing away at all. When nothing more was forthcoming he prompted further. "And?"  
  
"And nothin'. Lot've people know Remy."  
  
"And you knew him."  
  
"Remy know a lot've people."  
  
Well, that was getting him exactly nowhere. He changed tactics. "Who're they working for?"  
  
"Sinister. He got 'tooth, Scrambler, Arclight, likely Scalphunter wit' him."  
  
A thorough search of a steadily clearing mind didn't throw up any recognition of the names and he frowned at the unknown threat they resembled. "I don't know Arclight or Scalphunter."  
  
"Lucky man."  
  
"You know what I mean, what can they do?"  
  
"Arclight real strong, tough. She makes tremors or a light bright 'nough t' blind y'"  
  
"That'll be a real change. Scalphunter?"  
  
"Grey Crow, he makes machines do what he want, but mostly he a gun man. He got honour, when he allowed it."  
  
An odd thing to say and in an almost defensive tone, a nuance he might have missed if he weren't listening so hard to make up for the lack of vision. He wanted to ask how Gambit knew a bad guy so well to stand up for him, but it wasn't a priority just yet.   
  
"You know what they want?"  
  
More silence and he let it extend to a ten count before speaking again. "I know you're still there, Gambit, I can hear you breathing."  
  
A snort of begrudged amusement and finally a response. "Don' know what he wants."  
  
Now his head was clearer, the last of the sluggishness was retreating from his body as well. Slowly he drew himself up to rest back on his elbows and then worked on getting into a sitting position. Jean's cool hands returned as she steadied his progress. The darkness was getting old. He tilted his head from side to side, trying to get a fix on the dimensions of the room and where people were in it.  
  
Finally he glanced to where he thought she was, then back to what he hoped was an empty part of the cell. "I'm going to open my eyes, is anyone in the way?"  
  
"Only Quicksilver, does he count?" Her voice was hard; whatever Pietro had done to make her knock him out had clearly not yet been forgiven.  
  
After a moment wrestling with his conscience, he turned slightly to his right. "Now?"  
  
"It's clear. Uhm, does anyone know if adamantium could make the blast ricochet?"  
  
The Cajun spoke up quietly. "Can, oui."  
  
"How do you know?" He frowned without turning, just knowing he was about to be thwarted in his attempts to regain his five-sense happy place.  
  
"M' staff adamantium."  
  
"And you weren't going to mention that?"  
  
"Don' matter, y' won't do nuthin'. He turned y' off too."   
  
"You could have mentioned that earlier." Scot opened his eyes on the little room, still unable to quash the exultation at the clean colours he saw. Even the grey metallic sheen of the walls was beautiful and, if others hadn't have been abducted with him, he'd have been tempted to say it had been worth it just to see in more than shades of red.   
  
Remy's next words abruptly bought him down to earth.  
  
"Well, din't know fo' sure."  
  
He swung around to face Gambit, ready to launch the deserved verbal attack but stopped as he saw him. The thief was sat in the corner, knees drawn up under his chin, as small a target as he could possibly make himself. The faded amusement in the voice was just defeat in the expression and his anger abruptly died.  
  
Now he turned his attention back to Jean, she somehow looked impossibly even worse despite having failed to cram herself into a corner. Pupils so diluted he wondered how she was able to see any better than he had been able, so pale her hair was almost neon in comparison to her skin. "Are you hurt?"  
  
"No, not … it's just up here." She waved a hand vaguely at her head as she rose to stand next to him. "It's so quiet. It feels like I'm missing half my mind."  
  
The impulse to pull her closer was strong and tentatively he did so. She let him hold her in a loose half hug for a moment before drawing a breath and moving away with a more determined expression.   
  
"Shall I try and wake him up?" She nodded disdainfully to the young man apparently still dead to the world and he noted the bruise spreading out over his jaw. Nice hit and probably not something Pietro would appreciate waking up to. He could sleep for a while longer and the peace was nice while it lasted.  
  
"No, leave him for the minute. Think we're being monitored?"  
  
"Prob'ly." One of the thief's thin fingers pointed upwards, though his eyes didn't follow it, remaining firmly fixed on the ground before his drawn up feet.  
  
He turned a slow 360 as he tried to spot where surveillance equipment could be and found nothing. Gambit would be better suited to try but he clearly wasn't in the fight right now. It would probably take more than a pre-rally pep-talk to get him that way, so he concentrated on working a plan that required only himself and Jean.  
  
Twenty minutes later he still had nothing and Jean had ceased looking at him confidently after ten. Even with Gambit and Pietro onboard, he just couldn't think of a way out of the cell. They'd have to make their move when the door opened but there was no way to arrange an attack plan while they were being monitored.   
  
There wasn't much warning, just a hairline crack in the wall where the door would appear before the section slid away to reveal Sabretooth doing an impressively realistic impression of a door himself. In under a second he found he was wrong on two counts, two fast moving counts. Gambit unfolded himself in a lunge for the exit from the left while Pietro bought himself up into a sprinter's start before making a low linebacker's rush for the exit from the right.  
  
Both playing possum. He should have known they would be, even drugged out of his wits. He joined the rush and felt Jean move next to him as she did the same and was fiercely pleased to see the shock in Sabretooth's eyes as the man took a step back into the corridor.  
  
-0-  
  
"Abigail?"  
  
The woman took a step back despite the gentleness he'd attempted to greet her with. She was poised for flight, balanced on the balls of her feet and hands spread ready to propel her away.   
  
Xavier brushed his mind over the thoughts of his students and their teachers, ensuring they made no aggressive action. He wasn't surprised to find Logan's instincts fighting against the strangely bird-like movements she was making that marked her clearly as prey. She spoke softly, darting looks around her, never settling on one place or person for more than a heartbeat. "Abbie isn't here. I'm Sam, her … sister."  
  
Carefully he extended his mind to hers, now, a feather light touch and no more. There was no sense of instability, none of the fissures he would expect from a fractured mind. But the resemblance was uncanny; from the picture he had seen it had to be her twin ... or clone.  
  
"Are you with the FoH?"  
  
"No, neither's Abbie, you have to believe that." She moved slightly further in, but away from the Doctor, still light on her feet and swaying from side to side in preparation to move quickly.  
  
"I believe you. Why are you here, Sam?" He resisted deepening the mental contact despite the sense of growing urgency.  
  
"We, she, I … I want to help." He watched her struggle with the pronouns with a growing suspicion.   
  
"Are you a mutant, Sam?"  
  
"Sometimes." The voice was small and scared and his impatience warred with his concern briefly before Rogue's harsh shout broke the tentative truce.  
  
"Ah've had enough've this."  
  
"Rogue!" Ororo's cry of warning came to late, the girl sprung quickly and her hand clamped around the bare skin of Sam's arm. A second later Logan tackled her away, but the damage had been done. Sam gave a soft sigh and crumpled, saved from hitting the ground by Beast as he scooped her into his arms.  
  
Now Rogue had turned, holding Wolverine at bay with a snarl so near to feral as the man's own it was clear from whom she'd taken it. Her eyes blazed red and her fists were wreathed in vivid pink energy.  
  
"Y' got t' get them gone. She one of his, he comin' fo' y' all."  
  
This time he wasted no breath in trying to understand, just spoke quickly as he saw the fire-like flickering of the kinetic energy growing in strength. "Gambit, we're coming for you all. Release Rogue, she can't control your powers!"  
  
The demon eyes turned towards him, head shaking. With regret he sent his mind out to forcibly cut the connection but discovered the girl was once more missing from the psychic plane.  
  
Slowly the pink fire began to spread from her hands, weaving its way up her arms and across her body. Her mouth opened to scream that was finally her own before being filled with the crackling energy as it dove inside like a live thing seeking shelter. Logan's punch came out of nowhere knocking the girl out where she stood. The fire died abruptly.  
  
Kurt teleported to her side in a second, easing her to the ground as the doctor gave his current patient over to Kitty's care and checked Rogue's health as best he was able without touching her. Finally he looked up. "Aside from a sore jaw, she doesn't seem to have suffered any ill-effects. Without medical equipment I can't make a certain diagnosis."  
  
Kitty spoke up. "Sam's waking up. She doesn't look so good."  
  
The girl didn't. Her eyes flickered open, one gleaming blue and the other brown. She bolted to her feet, screaming at levels the human throat should never be able to reach. The ceiling shook and Kitty almost phased through the wall as she jumped away in shock.  
  
Ororo rest her hand on the girl's shoulder. "You are safe here, do not fear us, Sam."  
  
"Becky's here, not Sam. Sam went away and left Becky alone."  
  
There was silence for a moment before Xavier spoke thoughtfully into it, suspicions confirmed. "Becky, is it possible we could speak to Abigail, please?"  
  
The two-tone eyes were hidden with a slow blink and when they appeared again both were brown. The woman whispered so quietly he almost didn't catch the words. "I'm so sorry."  
  
"Where did he take them, Abbie?"  
  
"I don't know, but Sam does … that's why I sent her to talk to you."  
  
Now the mind he touched had a completely different form to earlier, no less whole but with the imprint of a completely different personality.  
  
"Who did this to you?"  
  
"Sam won't tell me. She writes me notes sometimes but she never says anything important."  
  
"Otherwise, you can't communicate with each other at all?"  
  
"Not really. I talk to them, her and Becky, but I don't know if they can hear me."  
  
"Rogue's comin' out've it, Chuck."  
  
Wolverine and Kurt were helping the girl to sit up; she looked around with an expression as perplexed as he'd ever seen on her. "What happened, ah don't …"  
  
"I think, somehow, Jean and Gambit are trying to use you to communicate with us. You touched Sam, do you remember anything?"  
  
"Ah … ah know where they are. It ain't far out, take the Blackbird and we'll be there real fast."  
  
The words had barely left her mouth before there was a general exodus towards the hangar and the still, mercifully, intact plane. For a moment he considered asking a skeleton force to guard the institute but the idea was quickly dismissed, he wouldn't risk splitting them into smaller groups when Sinister had proved so adept at picking them off. Gently took Abbie's hand and led her at a more sedate pace after the rush, unwilling to leave their only source of information behind and concerned for her wellbeing. It was with shame he realised he'd prioritized so harshly but there would be time to converse with his conscience when his students were safely home. 


End file.
